3

"Come on, you stupid fuck!" I hit the side of the slot machine and glared at the screen, which taunted me with its two cherries and a lemon. I was so close. Always so close but never quite winning. I was almost out of the allowance Crowe gave me weekly. Not that I didn't know how to scrounge up money if I needed extra dollars. Still, it was a slap in the face to lose so much.

Maybe I should move on to another machine. The man next to me, who had been having a lucky night, collected his chips with a wide grin and winked at me. "It's called luck, kid. You're either born with it or not."

Well, fuck me, then. I'd never had luck a day in my life. Maybe the day Crowe plucked me from the corpses of my parents, but that remained to be seen. After all the years it had taken me to become human again, I wasn't sure it was worth it. But it could be tonight. All I needed was to win once. It didn't even have to be much. Just enough to show me my luck could change.

If I won at the slots, maybe I also had a shot with Dr. Collier. I was running out of ideas to get that man to fall for me as hard as I had for him.

An older man walked up to the lucky machine. I bared my teeth and hissed at him.

He stumbled back, almost knocking over a woman behind him. "What in the world?"

"Beat it, bozo. That machine is mine."

"I was there first."

"You gonna fight me for it?" I slapped my long black cloak behind me to show him the knives strapped to my thighs.

"Fucking psycho," he muttered.

I took a step toward him, and he ran like a bitch. I might not be lucky, but I still creeped people out enough for them to leave me the fuck alone. That could be counted as a win. But not the win I wanted tonight.

"Don't let me down." I patted the machine and slipped in my last hundred-dollar bill. It was now or never. The machine hummed and blinked, the screen displaying my credit. From the corner of my eyes, I saw the man whispering to security across the room. I ignored them, drew a breath, and hit Spin with more force than necessary.

I could feel it. This was my lucky break. This time I would win big. And the next time I ran into Dr. Collier, he would admit his feelings for me, he would make me his, and we would live happily ever after.

For the first time in my life, I believed in happily ever after. I couldn't give up on that. I couldn't give up on him.

The screen exploded into a frenzy of colors as fruits spun in a dizzying whirlwind before slowing down. I held my breath as two cherries fell into place, then…a lemon.

"No, no, no!" I struck the slot machine screen with a clenched fist. The echo of the metallic ring resonated through the casino. Heads turned, eyebrows rose. Maybe I should accept it. I was born a loser, had grown up a loser, and as much as Crowe had tried, he still couldn't wash the stench of loser off me.

What a bad fucking night. I should have stayed at the clubhouse instead of sneaking into the casino. No gambling, Crowe had said. Man, the list of things he wouldn't allow me to do was getting longer and more absurd. No drinking, no smoking, and no sex too. The man didn't even allow me to watch porn. Like I was some little kid.

You heard what the psychiatrist said, Bloom. You're susceptible to addiction because of how your childhood trauma has wired you. I'm just trying to protect you.

A heavy hand settled on my shoulder, making my skin scrawl. I spun around and yanked on the guard's hand, twisting his fingers back with a sickening crunch. He let out a pained scream, dropping to his knees in agony. I rested my weight on my left leg to kick him in the face.

"Bloom! Let him go."

Bay, who ran the casino, hurried toward me. I glared at him for ruining the one thing I was good at.

"He touched me." I glared at the guard, who clenched his teeth. "Don't you know who I am, motherfucker? Your worst nightmare. Don't ever put your hand on me, or you'll lose it."

"He's new." Bay lowered his head to mine. "We can't cause an incident here and ruin this business, Bloom. I've worked too hard at getting this place up to par."

Fuck. It wasn't so much that I cared about the casino, but he was right. His working at the casino allowed him to be a more responsible father rather than doling out punishments.

I let go of the security guy's arm. No wonder I hadn't noticed him if he was a recently patched member. I'd been so busy chasing after Dr. Collier that I'd missed countless meetings. Crowe had threatened if I missed once more he would fine me. Joke's on him, since he controlled my money anyway.

"Sorry about that, everyone," Bay said loudly. "Just a misunderstanding. Please return to your games while I escort this young man out."

Bay kept a few inches between us. On a normal day, he could touch me if he wanted, but tonight, I was high-strung and frustrated. It'd been over two months, and Dr. Collier was still giving me the cold shoulder.

"Bloom, what's gotten into you?" he asked. "You've been acting out more lately."

"Nothing."

"It's the doctor, isn't it? He—"

"I don't want to talk about him." He wouldn't say anything I hadn't already heard from Crowe. To leave the doctor alone and concentrate on my therapy. I was fucking sick of therapy. Why did I have to get better before someone loved me? They all had partners. Couldn't they see I wanted what they had?

Bay sighed. "If not me, then at least talk to Crowe or call Saint's mother."

"I'm already seeing a psychiatrist here. She approved him."

"Is it working? He doesn't seem to be doing a good job of helping you channel your anger."

"I don't have any anger."

He raised a brow.

"Okay, maybe I have some anger, but it's just been a bad day. We all have those."

"Then go home. Have an early night. Should I call Crowe to pick you up?"

I scowled. "I'm not a baby. Don't I have my bike?"

"Yeah, but—"

"I can ride, Bay. See ya!"

Once I was outside, I loped off toward where my motorcycle was parked. Crowe had gifted it to me when I was officially patched into the Blood Hounds. I ran my hand over the shiny polished metal, admiring the sleek curves of the bike. It was a black beast beneath the moonlight, so much bigger than me, but that was why I loved it.

I hopped on and, with a revving roar, rode out of the parking lot. I let it rip down the highway, the vibration of the engine reverberating through my bones. The wind whipped through my hair, sliced through my coat, and bit into my skin, but I didn't mind. The dulled pain was nothing compared to the sharp ache of rejection. Rejected by everybody.

I can't allow him to reject me too.

The highway was practically empty at this time of night, with only a few cars. It allowed me to weave through the lanes, streaking across the dark landscape with no concern. The road lines blurred beneath me, disappearing under my wheels and reappearing again.

By the time I pulled off to a gas station, I was feeling much better. And sheepish I'd ridden so carelessly without a helmet. If Crowe knew, he would scold me, probably ground me by taking my bike away like the last time I'd fallen off and given myself a concussion.

Well, it's not like I'm going to tell him.

I pulled up to the pump, dismounted, and filled my tank. The cold metal of the nozzle bit into my hand, and the smell of gasoline filled my lungs. I inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar, sweet scent. The soft hum of the pump was almost like a lullaby, luring me into a state of calm.

A truck stopped parallel to me on the diesel pump. The driver, a medium-built man with a goatee, wearing a baseball cap, climbed out. He low-whistled at my bike. "Nice ride."

I resisted the urge to shoot him the finger. I didn't need his approval of my bike. See, I could be nice to people I didn't care about. Even if it was hard.

I finished up at the pump and strolled into the convenience store. The fluorescent lights reflected starkly off the white linoleum flooring. A bored-looking cashier, a young woman who appeared a year or two older than me, perked up and smiled. I supposed she was pretty, with shiny blond curls, blue eyes, and a heart-shaped face. When she sat up, her breasts jiggled, and I barely managed not to pull a face. Eh, I was definitely not into women, and I'd known that for a long time. What was new was the hots I had for Dr. Collier. I'd never felt sexual desire for anyone, but the more time I spent around Dr. Collier, the more I wanted to know what it was like being fucked by a man like him.

My desire didn't come from a place of wanting to top him the way my brothers did their partners. And that made me nervous. I was raised to be a leader. I was an enforcer, for fuck's sake. How could I be the bitch?

And yet the more I thought of it…

"Hey, can I help you with anything?" The cashier's voice cut through my thoughts.

"Nah, I'm good." I walked past the shelves stacked with bags of chips, chocolates, and other snacks. At the back, I browsed through the liquor selection and picked up a bottle of tequila. I didn't know much about hard liquor. Because of the Zoloft I was on, the doctors forbade me to drink it, but what the fuck? No one would ever know. Crowe said I couldn't drink until I was twenty-one, but I'd reminded him none of us knew how old I truly was.

I placed the bottle, a pack of cigarettes, and gum on the counter.

"I'll need to see your ID," she said.

"No, you don't." I handed her my bank card. "I've had a rough night. Don't make it worse."

I smiled. I didn't feel it, but my brothers said sometimes a smile worked. She swallowed and nodded. "Okay, but just this once 'cause you're really cute."

My cheeks flamed. No one had ever said that to me. People usually stared but kept their distance. Hard to tell what they were thinking that way.

"You think I'm… cute?"

She laughed as she rang up my sales. "Cute is an understatement. You're fucking hot, and the goth thing you have going on looks fantastic on you."

My smile was genuine as I took my goods. She scribbled something on the receipt, then gave it to me. "That's my number on the back. My name's Naomi. If you want, call me sometime, and we can hook up."

Yup, that was a phone number all right. I counted all the digits just to be sure. "Thanks, Naomi, but I'm not into girls."

"Too bad. Still call me. I bet you're fun to hang out with."

"Maybe."

Whoa. I walked out of the store in a daze. Was that how people made friends? For as long as I knew, it was just me and my brothers. I'd never gone to a formal school, so I'd never gotten the chance to make friends, and my life revolved around the club.

My first instinct was to throw away the number. I pocketed it instead. Maybe it would come in handy. The truck was still parked by the pump, even though the driver was no longer getting gas. Uneasiness settled in my gut, and I quickly put away my items in the saddlebag.

A man approached my bike, a cigarette between his lips.

"That your motorcycle, kid?" he asked.

I grabbed my helmet but didn't put it on.

"I'm talking to you, you weirdo."

The man fisted my coat. I reared back and slammed my helmet into his face hard. The crunch of bone breaking echoed in the empty night. He staggered back and fell to the ground, clutching his bloody face.

I swung my leg over the bike, put on my helmet, and roared off into the night, leaving behind the gas station, the girl I had no interest in, and the man with the smashed face writhing in pain on the concrete.

I bet he'll think twice before he comes after anyone again.

Weirdo.

Did he think that insult hurt? I'd heard it all my life. It never bothered me in the past and didn't bother me now.

Does Dr. Collier think I'm a weirdo?

I swallowed the lump in my throat. He'd told the nurse I wasn't normal. Was that the reason he refused to be with me? I could stand other people calling me a weirdo, but not Dr. Collier.

I rode too fast and too recklessly, running every stoplight I encountered, my mind racing faster than the motorcycle beneath me. I wanted to outrun my thoughts, hating the self-doubt Dr. Collier had reopened with his constant rejections.

The clubhouse came into view too soon. Several strange motorcycles that didn't belong there lined the perimeter of the building. I parked and inspected them. Fuck. The bikers from the Grimm Reapers were here. No wonder it was so noisy inside, even though it wasn't a party night.

Carrying my bounty, I snuck off to the back of the clubhouse, where Crowe had recently built a boathouse. He planned to take Max on boat rides for fun, fishing, and fucking. Sometimes I hated seeing them together, not because I wanted Crowe but because I was jealous of how close they were. Of how Crowe took care of Max. But I wasn't like Max. I didn't need that level of protection and care from anyone.

What exactly did I need from Dr. Collier?

I groaned. Why were relationships this complicated?

I settled down in the back of the small boat and unscrewed the cap off the tequila. The clear liquid slid down my throat easily, a burn I welcomed. Shuffling feet approached. Shit. If Crowe found me drinking…

Something hit a wall, followed by a grunt. I peered over the edge of the boat. What the fuck? The twins from the Reapers. They were kissing like no one else existed in the world but them. They whispered words I couldn't hear, ripping at each other's belts.

Seeing them together wasn't a surprise. Everyone knew the two were boning. Whatever floated their boat, though I found it strange as hell. They looked so much alike. It was like fucking yourself, and who wanted to do that?

I took another swig and watched the spectacle unfold. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from them. Normally I didn't pay my brothers any mind when they were fucking someone. I'd had no interest in the subject at all, but these strange feelings Dr. Collier gave me meant I wanted him to do this to me, didn't it?

In a jiffy, both their jeans were down to their ankles. I couldn't tell who was who, but one settled himself behind the other, bit his shoulder, and thrust. The boathouse filled with grunts and the sounds of skin slapping against skin.

Hmm. The one taking it seemed to enjoy it. I'd always thought being on the bottom was degrading. I'd seen the way the brothers back in the Riverton chapter treated their women and men like a piece of meat. They were mean to them, but this guy was grabbing his brother's hips and grinding into him like he was desperate for it.

The whole thing didn't last long. Five minutes at the most, but they were some intense five minutes that ended when the lookalike that topped came. They didn't stop there, though. The top went down on his knees and sucked off the other until he came into his mouth.

When the deed was done, they collapsed against the wall, kissing while fixing their clothes. I waited until they were fully dressed before I poked out my head farther.

"Hey!"

"What the fuck?" The brothers startled, clinging to each other. Well, weirdness aside, that was kind of sweet.

"You." I pointed at the one who'd been bottoming. "Doesn't it make you feel gross to be at the bottom? I mean, you're letting another man treat you like you're inferior."

"The fuck are you going on about?" the top growled. "We're equals. What does bottoming or topping have to do with superior or inferior?"

I shrugged. "I dunno, which is why I'm asking. You mean, you actually like to bottom?"

"We don't need this." The top pulled his brother's arm, but the other said something to him. They whispered harshly, kissed, then the top walked out of the boathouse.

"He acts like he owns you," I said.

The one staying smiled. "We own each other, but yeah, I like it when he acts like the boss of me."

"And you don't feel weird about it?"

"Nah, why should I?" He propped his elbows up on the boat. "Why were you spying on us?"

"Spying? I was already here. Not my fault you chose to get nasty in here."

"Nasty?" He burst out laughing. "How old are you? Ten? Sex is fantastic when it's with the person you care about. Well, it's good overall, but even better with someone you love."

"Never loved anybody that way before, so…" I shrugged. "But you really don't mind being his bitch?"

"Hey, unless someone specifically likes that, you don't call someone a bitch because they bottom."

"I didn't mean it as an insult."

"Well, some guys are into that. But even then, they might only want their partners to think of them that way. Doesn't give you a free pass to repeat it. Whatever happens in the bedroom, you respect your partner, and that's why I can comfortably bottom for Whip. Why are you asking about this anyway?"

"No reason." I picked up the tequila and took a swig.

"You're asking questions like you've never had sex."

"That's none of your business." I fanned him off. "You can go now. Thanks for the demonstration. Now I gotta think."

About Dr. Collier doing to me what they just did. My gut stirred at the thought of Dr. Collier pounding into me. My breath hitched.

"Wait!" I cried.

"What is it?" He stopped at the door.

"How did you get your brother to want to fuck you? Can you teach me how to do that?"

He stared at me wide-eyed for a few seconds, then shook his head slowly. "Hell, no. I can't help you with that, kid. You can't force someone to like you. Either they do, or they don't."